How Brittany and Santana Made Out with Everyone
by Arishako
Summary: A story in which Brittany and Santana make out with everyone in the school and therefore take over Lima, Ohio. Crackfic. Brittany/Santana/Everyone.


**Title**: How Brittany and Santana Made Out with, like, Everyone at the School (aka How Brittany and Santana Took Over Lima, Ohio)

**Fandom**: Glee

**Pairing/Characters**: Brittana, Santana/Brittany/Everyone

**Genre**: Crack

**Rating**: PG-15?

**Warnings**: Language and sex

**Word Count**: 4830

**Spoilers**: All episodes up to and the promo for 1x17.

**Disclaimer**: Thankfully, I do not own Glee. Trust me. Weird shit would happen.

**AN**: Inspired entirely by the promo for 1x17. Also, because I wrote this before the episode aired, the Glist is not written by the person who wrote it on the show. Whoops!

"What if this doesn't work?" Brittany whispered, twirling a few strands of Santana's hair around her fingers.

Santana rolled her eyes (but didn't bat Brittany's hand away even though the blonde was totally messing up her ponytail) and responded, "Of course it'll work."

"No, I mean," Brittany looked around the still-empty gym and lowered her voice even more, "what if he's not into it?"

"B, he's a guy. Of _course_ he'll be into it."

"'Kay," Brittany said, but didn't make any move to open the door she was leaning against. She pulls Santana's hair lightly. "Are you _sure_ this'll work?"

"Hey," Santana leaned in closer to Brittany and bumped their noses together. "We are going to do this and it's going to work because we're awesome." She offered her hand, pinky extended, for Brittany. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Brittany let Santana's hair fall back into place so that she could link their pinkies together. The two girls shared a smile and Brittany moved aside to open the door leading to the boys' locker room.

**-x-x-x-**

Mike was alone in the locker room, and then he wasn't. The initial sound of footsteps approaching was not really uncommon at all, but once he heard the sounds of two distinct and decidedly feminine giggles heading his way, he kind of panicked and scrambled around the benches looking for his shirt.

At the last minute, he just grabbed Finn's jersey and threw it on over his head.

Moments later, he heard a sultry voice echoing through the locker room, "Hello."

He turned around and saw Santana leaning calmly on the wall of the boys' locker room, as if it was something she did all the time, smirking at him. Her pinky was linked with Brittany's. The blonde just smiled and said, "Hi, Finn."

Mike didn't bother to correct her.

"So listen, Mike," Santana was still talking in that raspy voice that was kind of really hot but also made Mike just a little nervous—kind of like she's some predator that's going to, like, chase him down and kill him or something. "B needs a boyfriend to walk her to her classes.

"Yeah," Brittany said, "I need a boyfriend."

"You won't have to do a lot, either." The two girls were moving closer to him now, and Brittany was doing that thing where she bites her lip and looks all sad and Mike was having trouble not just collapsing onto the bench because, _shit_, this was really, really hot. "It's just a school thing. Nothing personal."

"Yeah," Brittany echoed, "Nothing personal."

They were right in front of him now. Brittany wrapped her free arm around Mike's shoulders and pulled him even closer. "It'll be worth it for you, too," Santana whispered into his ear. "Britt's really good at giving head."

"Yeah. _Really_ good."

Santana groaned. "B, stop doing that."

"Oh."

Santana turned back to Mike, "What do you say?"

Not surprisingly, Mike was speechless. As it turned out, however, he didn't need to say anything at all.

**-x-x-x-**

There was some crazy lady in the Glee club (no, it wasn't Rachel, who actually _wasn't_ in Glee club for some stupid reason or another) and she was apparently giving away free booze.

And she _forgot_ about Santana and Brittany.

So Santana had tried flirting with Puck and Brittany had tried flirting with Santana but neither had any luck in managing to get any drinks of their own.

In fact, they were sitting on the edge of the stage, their feet dangling and brushing together with each movement, bemoaning this very fact when the aforementioned crazy lady stepped out of the right wing and drawled, "We'll from what I've seen of your technique, I can see why."

Santana stared at the woman incredulously, and April Rhodes sauntered down to the girls at the lower center stage, swaying her hips and humming as if she were putting on a performance. She knelt down behind Brittany and gently rubbed the Cheerio's shoulders. "That's right, Sweets. You guys are obviously new to this game, and I think I can show you a thing or two about how to get what you want."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Santana lied. Brittany didn't have any idea either, actually, but she kept her mouth shut because this lady was actually really good at massages and she'd been pretty sore ever since she'd gotten tangled up in her bed sheets for a few hours the previous week.

"I'm just saying that I could teach you a thing or two. I've been doing this a long time," April said with a wink in Santana's direction.

"We don't need your help," Santana snarled.

"But you just got here…" Brittany mumbled.

April nodded, pulling briefly away from Brittany so that she could sit down on the stage between the two girls. "Oh, I know you probably don't need any of my help." She hesitated. "It's just…you two have so much potential. I know that you'll be doing great things someday and I guess I just think it would be nice to say that I knew you at one point." Her eyes were teary and her bright purple high heels scuffed against the side of the stage.

Really, the Cheerios couldn't help but give in.

**-x-x-x-**

It wasn't until two hours later, when Santana woke up to see April Rhodes sneaking out the door wearing a Cheerios skirt and whistling a show-tune, that she realized they'd been totally played.

She let her head fall back onto Brittany's shoulder. "God dammit."

**-x-x-x-**

"Hey, guys, I don't think my chair should carry this much weight," Artie mumbled. It was really all he could say at the time. And who could blame him? There were two cheerleaders sitting on his lap. Anyone would get a little tongue-tied in a situation like that.

"It's fine," Santana said. And, suddenly, everything _was_ fine, because Santana was kissing the side of his neck just under his ear and Brittany was tilting his head towards her and letting their lips brush as she spoke.

"Artie, can you do me a favor?" He was about to say, '_Yes_,' (yes to _anything_, really) but then he couldn't because Brittany's tongue was in his mouth and Santana's teeth were on his neck and he forgot how to speak.

Brittany pulled away to say something and Santana pulled away to start pulling her friend's shirt off. "I lost my wheelchair," Brittany said while Santana pulled her hair out of its tight ponytail. "Do you have, like, extras? I need to borrow one."

It may have taken Artie longer than he would have liked to admit to actually process what the Cheerio was saying, but he finally managed to answer, "Sure. Yeah. Totally." In a semi-suave (but not really) manner, he pulled his glasses off, put them on the side table, and winked. "Let's do this thing."

**-x-x-x-**

The day before the Glee club was to perform _Proud Mary_, Will couldn't find Artie anywhere.

He walked around the auditorium (barely avoiding being run over by Brittany in a red wheelchair that Santana was pushing around the stage at a speed that wheelchairs were likely never met to meet) about three times looking for the boy before Tina approached him with her cell-phone, saying he had a call.

"Mr. Schuester?" Will recognized Artie's voice immediately. "I couldn't make it to school today. I don't have my wheelchair."

"What? What on earth happened to it?"

A pause.

"I lost it."

**-x-x-x-**

Kurt was interrupted in his midday moisturizer touch-up by Brittany barging into the bathroom. He _would_ have been offended that Brittany had just invaded the men's room if not for the fact that they were both actually in the second floor lady's room and the girl actually looked quite surprised to see him.

"Hey, Kurt, you're, like, really good at makeup, right?" Kurt chose not to answer that question and instead to gesture towards the no less than twenty-seven different products spread across the entire bathroom counter.

Brittany, however, just continued to stare at him, apparently waiting for an answer. He sighed and said, "Yes. I'm pretty good at it."

The Cheerio smiled. "I have a thing with Santana tonight. It's not a date, though. Do you wanna do my makeup for me?"

"Um," Kurt hesitated. As much as he loved having a live model, he hadn't actually gotten to practice on anyone other than himself ever since his dad found out that it didn't count as an Olympic sport. Also, _RuPaul's Drag Race_ was airing a marathon just after school today and he kind of really didn't want to miss it. "I don't think I can."

"I can do you, too," was Kurt's only warning and then, all of the sudden, Brittany's lips were on his. Her face was soft and her breasts were pressing up against his chest and…_ew._ Really ew. Kurt pulled his face away (he had knocked over a few of his foundations with his flailing, he noted) and gasped for fresh air. Before he could even begin to wrap his mind about all that, Brittany had started nibbling on his neck and sliding her hands up and down his chest and closer to his belt buckle.

"Okay, wait," He blocked Brittany's face with one hand and pushed himself free of her grip with the other. "How about this: I'll help you with your date if you don't do that again."

Brittany's face brightened. "Okay!"

**-x-x-x-**

Finn drummed a tune with his fingers on the steering wheel to his car. He kind of wished he could, like, turn the radio on or something, but he'd left his car keys behind with his wallet at _Breadsticks_ twenty minutes ago. Or rather, _around_ twenty minutes ago, because his car's clock was turned off and he hadn't worn a watch. Either way, the restaurant must have had, like, some sort of holdup or something, since Santana and Brittany had already finished their dinner by the time he was banished to the car, and they just had to pay.

Finally, he heard a knock on the passenger window, and the door clicking open so that both Brittany and Santana could slide into the front seat (Santana sat on Brittany's lap).

"We brought you some leftover cake," Brittany said, and Finn didn't remember them mentioning ordering cake and now he was kind of wondering what _else_ they bought with his money, but before he could ask, a white take-out box was shoved into his chest. He fumbled it but managed to catch it before it fell onto his lap.

"Look, Finn," Santana said, leaning over the center console and brushing some of the leftover bread crumbs off his shirt, "I want you to know that this wasn't how I planned tonight to go."

"Yeah," Brittany agreed, "We weren't supposed to kick you out until you gave us some dirt on the Glee club."

"Britt," Santana scolded, nudging the other girl with her foot (which, since she was still perched on the blonde's lap, just caused her to grind her hips into Brittany's). "What she means is…do you want to move to the back seat to talk about this?"

At first, Finn didn't really get what she meant, since the back seats were pretty much just as uncomfortable as the front seats (even more so, in fact, ever since he had spilled some seven-up back there and let it dry on the fake leather). But then he noticed that Brittany was looking at him and licking her lips, and that her hands were running up and down Santana's thighs and under her Cheerio's skirt and suddenly he got it. "Yeah," he said slowly, "I really would."

**-x-x-x-**

A couple minutes later (literally, a couple—as in, not more than two), Finn was out of breath and sweating with a girl sitting on either side of him, trailing kisses along his neck.

"I'll bet Manhands can't do this for you," Santana breathed into his ear as Brittany's hand pulled away from his unbuttoned jeans to wipe against his shirt.

"We're _way_ hotter than she is," the blonde agreed.

Finn closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the seat. "We're not dating anymore," he said. "She's dating some guy from Vocal Adrenaline. Jesse St. John or something."

When he next opened his eyes, the two girls were gone.

**-x-x-x-**

Honestly, it was just supposed to be a girls' night in, but Quinn _would_ go and ruin it by being all mopey. Santana and Brittany were just trying to watch cartoons (and maybe fondle each other a little bit, but they kept it under the covers!) when Quinn had started getting teary-eyed and quiet and had grabbed the large stuffed penguin Brittany kept next to her pillow and just started squeezing it.

Of course, Santana had already tried just ignoring her, but then the ex-Cheerio had started to cry, and then Brittany noticed the noises and pulled Santana's hand out of her panties so she could go comfort her friend.

After a few minutes of cuddling Brittany in one arm and an oversized purple penguin in the other, Quinn's sobs had been reduced to just the occasional sniffle. Brittany had gone downstairs to get her Spongebob Squarepants Movie, since she always watched that when she was sad about something (but since her parents always organized the DVDs alphabetically and she had trouble remembering what went after 'F,' she probably wouldn't come back for about an hour).

"What the fuck, Q?" It was Santana's way of showing she cared.

Quinn started squeezing the penguin again. "This show makes me sad." Santana rolled her eyes—it seemed that Quinn had just been crying at the drop of a hat ever since she had gotten pregnant and kicked out of her house and rejected by her boyfriend.

"We're watching _Daria_. It's not that sad." Nevertheless, Santana had taken the doll from Quinn and rested it carefully and wrapped the blonde up in her arms. Quinn wrapped her arms tightly around Santana and nuzzled the other girl's neck. Santana sighed. "Oh, for god's sake, just cry and get it over with."

And so Quinn did. She bawled for the next seven minutes (not that Santana's gaze was fixed on the clock or anything) while Santana awkwardly patted her head and made noises that were intended to sound comforting but were really just unhelpful grunts.

Finally, Santana got tired of doing even that and so she pulled Quinn's forehead off her shoulder and looker her in the eyes. "Stop crying," she said and kissed her right on the…cheek, because Quinn went and turned her head at the last moment.

"That's a sin," Quinn protested.

"Oh, please. I do _not_ need to hear about your gay panic tonight. Now, do you want to get laid or not?"

Quinn frowned and then alternated between looking at Santana and at Brittany's stuffed penguin. Finally, she just looked up at the ceiling and mumbled, "Forgive me, Lord…"

**-x-x-x-**

"Why does Coach want us to do this, again?" Brittany whispered to Santana during their fourth period Spanish class. Unfortunately, she leaned in the wrong direction and accidently whispered to Rachel Berry, who promptly began lecturing Brittany on the importance of maintaining a good level of consternation during classes (or something like that—Brittany got kind of confused and tuned out after a few seconds).

"Rachel," Mr. Schuester's voice quickly silenced the small diva. "Would you mind directing your attention to me when I am talking?" Deflated, Rachel looked back down at her notebook.

Brittany was just about to ask Santana (the real one, this time) _why_ they were about to do this again when the bell rang, a wave of students rushed towards the door in an effort to be the first ones to the cafeteria, and Santana helped her out of her seat and then linked their pinkies together as they walked up to Mr. Schuester's desk.

"So, Mr. Schue," Santana perched herself on the corner of his desk and leaned back on one hand, crossing her legs. Her skirt slid up her thighs. "We wanted to talk to you about Brittany's last test."

"It's the one about Spanish," Brittany clarified.

"Yes. Of course." Will knew the one. Brittany had gotten a 7%, and that was because he had been generous and accepted the menu from Taco Bell as a list of acceptable conjugations for the verb 'amare.' "What would you like to talk about?"

"Do you think you could, like, fix it?" Brittany asked and then bit her lower lip softly.

"The coach is keeping tabs on our grades," Santana said, pulling Will closer to her by his tie. "Britt needs to get a C this semester to stay on the team." Will's thighs hit the desk as he was lead forward, and Santana wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him against herself. He saw Brittany's hands sliding up Santana's thighs before he felt her breasts press into his back.

"Girls," he started, "I don't think—"

"Good. Don't think." And then Santana kissed him.

**-x-x-x-**

"Mr. Schue has a really small penis," Brittany announced.

Sue Sylvester didn't seem even mildly surprised at the declaration. "It's exactly as I suspected then." A pause. "I love being right." She pulled out a clipboard with a list attached to it. The list contained several measurements, amounts of money, and teachers' signatures. It was titled 'Betting Pool.' "All right, give me details."

"It's, like, really tiny," Brittany said. "It's smaller than my cat."

"Four point eight five inches," Santana clarified, calmly.

Sue stared at her oddly for a moment before responding. "You've done good work here, babies. I think you each deserve to become a part of the Cheerio Captains' Mani/Pedi Weekends. Now go get on the fields and do your warm-ups."

Santana groaned. "Is there _anything_ we could do to get out of practice today?" She reached over and wrapped her arm around Brittany's waist, tilting her head down and opening her eyes wide and generally trying to act innocent.

Sue just laughed. "I've taught you two well. Now do your warm-ups."

Santana pouted all throughout the practice.

**-x-x-x-**

Jesse St. James sings when he comes.

Santana thought it was kind of funny, and Brittany thought it was kind of adorable. "We could tell Rachel about it," she had said one day while they were sitting in the back row of the Vocal Adrenaline auditorium (all the VA kids had been much more receptive to the Cheerios ever since _someone_ in their group, for whatever reason, had spread the rumor that Brittany was related to Cher since they had the same last name). "They could, like, plan a duet or something."

Santana thought _that _was kind of horrifying. "God. They would, too." She shuddered.

"Well, it's kind of cute," Brittany said. "They could pick songs in advance to sing together and stuff."

"We're going to talk about something else, now," Santana announced, disgusted.

"Kay," said Brittany, and she pulled Santana's hand onto her lap and played with the other girl's fingers.

On a later day, they would tell Rachel that Jesse St. James sings when he comes.

They would, however, conveniently forget to mention that he sings out-of-tune.

**-x-x-x-**

The door to the choir room slammed open and Tina (who was surprisingly alone in the room since Rachel was off practicing her scales or lubing her throat or whatever the hell she did when she wasn't in Glee) jumped a little bit in her seat and nearly managed to knock the chair out from under herself. Santana and Brittany stormed into the room and each flanked a side of Tina's chair, making escape completely impossible.

Santana held up the newest edition of the Glist—Tina's name had replaced Brittany's in fourth place. "What the hell is this?" She demanded.

"I-I-I," Tina didn't have to fake this stutter. "I have no idea."

Santana scoffed. "I heard you kissed a girl—"

"And you liked it," Brittany added.

"—And that's kind of our thing, okay? So stop stealing our thunder."

"Um," Tina frowned, "I really have no idea what you guys are talking about." And, really, she didn't. She hadn't kissed anyone except for Artie (and Mike, that one time…) and neither of them were girls (unless they were, but that would be weird). Obviously, the Cheerios had gone insane.

Brittany looked at Santana, who nodded. She then sat right down on Tina's lap, wrapped her arms around the other girl's neck, and pulled her into a kiss. Tina was actually enjoying herself, letting her arms fall to Brittany's waist and her lips part (even though knowing that Santana Lopez was hovering over them at that very moment was really terrifying in the not-sexy way), but Brittany pulled away and pouted.

"Now you've kissed _two_ girls. Um. Wait," Brittany paused and looked extremely lost for several minutes.

Santana stepped behind Tina's chair and bent over, placing her arms on the other girl's shoulders and whispering into her ear. "What she means is that we want you to back off and stop trying to steal our popularity." She gently bit Tina's earlobe, and the other girl gasped.

"Yeah." Brittany slipped her hands under Tina's shirt and unclasped the other girl's bra in one fell swoop. "You don't have to act like a slut to get attention."

If Tina had actually wanted to voice her response to that remark, her one chance was lost when Santana turned her head and crashed their lips together.

**-x-x-x-**

Within the week, Brittany and Santana had jumped up to third and second place on the Glist, respectively.

They weren't quite satisfied, but they would save their ambush of the Top Gleek for when it was least expected…

They would take Noah Puckerman down.

**-x-x-x-**

"Hey, San, are you going to finish that?" Brittany gestured towards the single piece of iceberg lettuce on Santana's tray. Coach Sylvester was doing weight checks next week, and although she was usually more lenient towards the two girls, they didn't want to take any chances.

"No, you can take it." Santana was just trying to focus on her lap, because it had been like _six hours_ since she'd eaten anything and, god, she was starving.

"Hey. Hey, San," Brittany whispered and tugged on Santana's sleeve until she looked up, which took about three minutes of pestering. "Look at that sandwich over there."

Brittany was, in fact, pointing to Matt, but Santana knew that the other girl wasn't just doing that crazy thing where she started seeing people as food (and then started making suggestive comments to Santana regarding tacos) because Matt was actually holding a sandwich.

And, actually, that sandwich looked _delicious_.

Under the table, Brittany moved her hand onto Santana's lap and linked their pinkies. "Do you think we could…?" She tugged the other girl's pinky a bit, as if pleadingly.

"Really? That's so much work, though. We could, like, walk to Subway in that time."

Brittany leaned her head on Santana's shoulder. "It looks really yummy." Santana groaned. Brittany turned her head to bump her nose against the Cheerio's shoulder. "We'll split it."

Santana considered for a moment. "God dammit, B."

**-x-x-x-**

If any of the other basketball players thought it odd that Matt was practically dragged away from the 'Jock Table' by means of a Cheerio on either side wrapping his arms around their shoulders and guiding him towards the nearest restroom before he even had a chance to put his lunch down, none of them mentioned anything.

**-x-x-x-**

'_Hey puck what are u wearing :)_'

The text was from Brittany's number and it made Puck smirk (and disconnect from his current cyber-session with Trixxxie) because it seemed like it had been a real long time since he'd last scored with her.

He sent her a quick reply that he wasn't wearing anything and that she'd better not be either, and then he actually took of his pants because, fuck, suddenly he was totally into the idea of sexting with Brittany and the and his jeans were too constricting.

His phone vibrated on his desk right next to the old-as-fuck desktop and he picked it up to see that Brittany had sent him a picture message. The two Cheerios were in (what he assumed was) Brittany's room, wearing nothing but matching pairs of black panties. They were both smiling at him, and Santana's arm was extending toward the edge of the frame, like she was holding the camera.

"Shit," was the word Puck used to describe it.

Before he could even think of any proper reply (other than the 'holy fuck' that he had just sent), his phone was buzzing again and he had another picture accompanied by a message.

'_Puck we need ur help with something_' Now, Santana was straddling Brittany's lap giving a sultry look to the camera (to _him_) and Brittany's hands were on the other girl's hips and the usually-blank look on her face had been replaced with something much more seductive. Puck felt his dick twitch in response, and he slid one hand into his boxers while he texted back with the other.

'_What do you need me to do for you?_' He sends back.

'_U know who wrote the glist right?_' The text was sort of unexpected, but Puck doesn't really think about it, because the panties have been tossed aside and now Brittany's hands were on Santana's boobs. This was the best day ever, Puck decided.

'_Ya i do._'

'_We think there should be some changes. Tonight maybe. BTW do u wanna come over?_' Puck did want to come (over to Brittany's house, that is). He wanted to really freaking badly. So he pulled up the Glist document he had saved on his computer and quickly replaced his name in first place with both Santana's and Brittany's (he totally misspelled her last name, too).

'_It's all taken care of. Where should i go?'_ His dick was so hard it hurt, and he stared at the phone in his hands intensely for the next minute until it buzzed again.

'_I'm sorry i dont know who u are u must have the wrong # bye.'_

Puck cursed loudly and resent the text (checking the number carefully, this time).

His message went unanswered. So did the next eighteen.

**-x-x-x-**

"This club might not suck that much after all," Santana said, sipping on the Coke Zero that some blushing band geek had bought for her. "We get, like, mad respect around here."

"Yeah. People really look up to us, too," Brittany said blankly. "It's nice."

"We rock." Santana held up her can and clinked it against Brittany's can of purple Fanta (god, _nobody_ sells that stuff anymore—that trombonist must have really been desperate) in a toast to themselves. For rocking, of course, and for becoming the number one spot on the Glist with 203 points each and for making out with pretty much everyone in the school. After chugging the rest of her soda, Santana reached over and linked Brittany's pinky with hers. It was her way of saying that she loved Brittany.

The blonde leaned her head on Santana's shoulder and squeezed her pinky right back. It was her way of saying that she loved Santana.

And, really, everything would have been perfect had it not been for Stubbles. As usual.

"You guys are tarnishing the reputation of our Glee club—" Honestly, Santana wasn't sure how she'd even gotten in the room without them noticing. "—rethink the path you've set for yourselves, because—" Brittany yawned, and Santana, forgetting that that Berry person was still in the room talking at them, kissed the top of her head. "—obviously share a very special bond and I can respect that because my two gay dads have taught me to be very open-minded, but—"

"Hey, San," Brittany said, "do you want to make her stop talking?" Brittany shifted in her chair so that her skirt slid up her thighs a bit.

"Manhands? That's disgusting."

"She's kind of cute."

Santana did not so much respond to that as she did try to stop herself from vomiting on the floor.

"She looks kind of like a mouse," Brittany said. "That's cute, right?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Oh fine, then."

"—furthermore, Julliard has a respectable Gay Straight Alliance—" Jesus s_hit,_ Berry was _still_ talking. "—and extensive dancing programs that would challenge someone of even my ability. But I seem to have digressed."

"Hey, RuPaul," Santana said, rising along with Brittany. "How would you like to help us with some oral exercises?"

And so Rachel was trapped.


End file.
